PANHANDLER

#75 - He liked her a lot, thinking maybe she was “the one”. And hoped the same from her.

Welcome! I’m glad you are here. 

                    #75 - Panhandler 

Home from panhandling, Steve took a quick shower and while getting dinner started, he marveled at the recent turn of events. 

He still had his studio apartment, was still in school, and was still seeing Janine. She was the best thing. They met in the college cafeteria a couple of months ago.  

He liked her a lot, thinking maybe she was “the one”. And hoped the same from her. 

Janine was coming over for dinner. 

He had to tell her, but he didn’t know what her reaction to it would be. How he managed to conceal his “job” from her this long was in itself a wonder. 

It was panhandling that paid the bills. Flexible hours and cash paid daily. 

He put in a shift a day. Two or three on the weekend if he chose to. It was money, tax free. 

How did his panhandling come about? - He lost his job at the restaurant, would soon mean losing his studio, which would put school at risk. He had student loans to pay. He was tapped out. 

And now there was Janine. He didn’t want to mess it up if it wasn’t too late.

A couple of things started him thinking.  

He saw a man pushing a wheelchair. As he neared Macy’s, he pulled out his “homeless” sign that was written on a piece of cardboard, sat in the chair, and hand-wheeled his way to the store front.  

Steve watched. People gave him money. 

In the park near school, he saw a fellow he recognized. He was panhandling at the intersection between the freeway and the mall. An hour before, and before he had changed his clothes, he was at a picnic table with his laptop up and running, talking on his cellphone. Looked clean. With his backpack he looked like a student. Looked carefree. 

The idea kept coming back. Steve’s situation wasn’t improving. He needed to pay rent. 

He was desperate. All he had to do was swallow his pride.  

He got out his oldest pair of jeans and old hoodie jacket, put them in his backpack, and hand-scribbled a sign on cardboard from a storage box.  

He went to the nearby park’s restroom and changed into his grubs, put on a disheveled look, and walked the quarter mile to the intersection by the mall. 

It was rush hour.  

Steve walked out onto the traffic island and held up his sign. 

He did it. He got money. It was easy. 

It only took a couple of days for Steve to adjust and improve his routine. And look. He stopped shaving and was letting his hair grow. 

He alternated locations and moved away from his home base. Recognition from locals wouldn’t be good.  

Any big cross-street or place with a lot of foot traffic would do. He occasionally took the bus a small distance away to the next city to “work” intersections near the freeway. 

He became familiar with other panhandlers. Some offered up their story.  

He learned fast that there are premium panhandling spots. It’s first come first served when picking a good spot and you don’t want to horn in on another’s space. Trouble might ensue. 

He saw those truly homeless, from circumstance and luck, and drugged-out street people, there by choice. And others, like himself, in for a quick fix to a temporary cash-flow problem.  

For some, it becomes a job. An on-going scam. It was easy money.  

There was only one negative. Well, two. Ok, three. 

First, he was panhandling. He felt guilty. He couldn’t continue the charade indefinitely.  

But he had to cover his immediate expenses. He was to get his waiter’s job back at the restaurant but didn’t know when it would re-open. What was thought a one-time quick fix to his problems quickly escalated with the help of the second negative. 

Second, it was so easy to get caught up in the system. It made it easy.  

A social worker came up to him at an intersection and gave him information about how to get aid and food stamps. He got debit cards. 

He went to the dentist, got a health check at a clinic.  

One thing led to another. With all the aid, and panhandling, he had money in his pocket, and already had next month’s rent. School was not a concern, for now.  

All in a few weeks. Panhandling was too easy. It had become his job. He knew what he had to do. If he could.  

It’s a dream killer - this soul-eating money-making sham. Leaves you feeling empty inside. 

Third, what would Janine do? They were good together. Could she get past this - situation? That was the main of it. Could they have a future? 

Would he be with her or without her?  

Janine knocked at the door.  

They chatted as they ate and caught up on the daily happenings.  

Janine was in her junior year at college. Studying archeology. Was going on a dig in a few weeks to some ruins in Utah. 

Then Steve told her everything.  

Janine just looked at him.  

Time slowed to a snail’s pace; their eyes locked on one another. Forever, it seemed. 

“Well??” he said. 

In her eyes he saw the future. 

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